"samaritan" poems
I made a promise to myself long before,
That never again would I write no more,
Because I only felt Darkness...
I sit at a crossroads and no matter which way I look,
Nor would it matter which direction I took,
Because I only saw Darkness...
I await a door to be opened but all remain locked,
From any such light my sight seems to be blocked,
I can feel the Darkness...
Being the good samaritan will get you nowhere in this life,
Nice guys finish last in my back hangs out a knife,
I only see Darkness...
As much as I pray to the Light,
There is absolutely no light in my sight,
I only see Darkness...
Is the Light truly your friend,
Because every day just feels like the end,
I feel only Darkness...
Faith, Hope and Love,
I could use some help from above,
I see only Darkness...
When I search my body for my soul,
But think long ago the Darkness has stole,
I must have lost it to the Darkness...
I pray but I see no light at the end,
I guess that Darkness is my friend,
I can feel the Darkness...
In a world of black and white,
When that road is the only one that feels right,
Time to embrace the Darkness......
© P.I. 2014
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Whenever there's a damsel in distress,
Whenever there's a burning building,
Whenever there's something bad happening,
The hero comes and saves the day!
Whether they're a firefighter or just a good samaritan.
But what about the hero?
Who saves them?
Sometimes on the way to saving someone else,
We lose the fight against ourselves.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
The fish does not understand
Water
But the stray-nine
Understands home
Sometimes it takes an absence
A negativity, a darkness
From the dust dream rises
Like stars from the void
Someone rides an elevator up
Your spine and
Bridge
The direction is born
Soul tendrils extend and
Embrace tender lock of we
Season together
The fat men starve before the
Peasant because they
Have never really
Ached
In their stomachs
In their bones
When you live in famine
Scraps can sustain
And yet
Will you still notice the
Seven shade cycle rainbow-nectaring
From the street lanterns?
Or the
Diamonds
In ivory fro-banks glittering sparks?
When you are full
Will you
Ponder the pulsar’s violence?
Will you
Spare the stranger and Samaritan oft?
When you are full
Don’t lose it
Sadness is
Your prism
Choose the spectrum
Transcend the neut and stag
You can be their Atlas
They
Need
It
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
You are going to find yourself
Hating everyone.
And it should come as no surprise
That one day you'll pick up smoking
Because that fat ***** you fell for
Thought you looked **** doing it.
Men will crave your lips
Not for kisses but for ********
And you will have to battle them
On every insistence.
You will sleep with a teddy bear,
Human-sized
Well into adulthood
Because there will be nights
That you are so disconnected from the world
That you feel as though you are floating.
You will be sneered at
By mental hospital nurses
At the age of sixteen
As you visit your boyfriend
For your first date
In Good Samaritan hospital.
They will see your youth
And rage inside.
You will waste yourself.
You will die and redeem
Within yourself.
You will fall in love
With a man much older than you
And suddenly
Thirty won't seem
So old at all.
Thirty will seem
Like a world your old soul
Could get lost in.
And you will.
And it will be wonderful.
You will become paranoid.
Walking to church at midnight
With the love of your life,
You will constantly
Be looking over your shoulder.
You will forever
Be looking over your shoulder.
This will become
A necessary hobby.
You will tear down your Beatles posters
And replace them with Wes Anderson ones
Shamelessly.
You will come to a point
Where you hate yourself
In a most incomprehensible way
But you will write a poem
And you will be paid for it
And you will pay your cell phone bill with the money
And you will be successful.
You will have your escape plan
But you will never use it.
You will never need to.
His charm and his wit
And the way his eyes sparkle when he sees you
Will keep you rooted
Even when you are ready
To book it.
You'll be subpoenaed
And you will hate it
And ***** over it
And you will have to stand trial
But life is a trial
And you will win.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
Use a little compassion
Show some humanity
Basted in boredom
In touch with insanity
How many flies will have to die
before her thirst is sated?
How many eyes will have to pry
to show what you've wasted?
Worming through the night
scheming, hell bent
forestalling my demise
with evil intent.
She'll tend the garden
Like a perfect person
But her heart is hardened
as she mixes the poison.
Beware the water
Beware the daughters
Beware the good Samaritan.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
Many people remind us of the Lord.
They venture into places we dare not go.
It might be the ghetto or the wealthy side of town.
Where pretense is in the people you know?
They have the heart of the Good Samaritans.
Where assisting those in need?
Is there only agenda.
They mean no harm.
And many never seem alarm.
But more comfortable.
It's been stated many of us live in a comfort zone.
Surrounded by security from the real sociaty.
Where fear controls your every move?
These brave souls acts on reaction.
Always seeking a satifaction to the crisis.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Emergency Technicians.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Fire personnel.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Law enforcement.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Counselors, charity workers.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
All honorable soldiers.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
And brave parents.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Especially when we see them stand up to those trying to be mean.
When others would avoid getting involved.
We must remember there are those that honorable in the eyes of God.
When people with titles refuses to fight.
They need to remember they walking in darkness instead of the light.
Comfortable in doing wrong.
Instead of doing right.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
In God We Trust, For He Invented Reasonable Doubt
In Courtroom of the State of New York, Part 62,
where the only decoration extant,
in gold leaf letters,
a magnificent joke,
In God We Trust.
Words so incongruous
to the real time drama,
a poorly acted Law and Order episode
of which I partake,
(as Juror No. 1,
ergo you may address me as
Mr. Jury Foreman),
they stun me into stupefaction
every time we enter and the
Bailiff pronounces with much gravitas,
"Jury Entering"
A potpourri of a dozen Manhattanites,
with wisdom acquired
by the singular virtue of
having attained the robust age of 18,
noteworthy for being free of
criminal record,
having been nominated
to sit upon the jury that will decide
the fate of one Eric B.,
for what he may have done upon West 11th Street
one Summer night in
June Two Thousand and Eleven,
If adjudged guilty,
New York State can take,
incarcerate him for up to
15 years of his life
Predicate felon by the age of twenty seven,
Eric's resume consists of
four felonies,
two misdemeanors
a wife and two little children,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Facts turgid and muddy,
Eric tells a story
one juror calls a confection of lies,
no one murmurs
much disagreement in the
tiny, overheated room
we have been sequestered to
replay
the 2012 version of
Twelve Angry Men.
But I am not his peer,
nor am I a seer,
common sense says
if appearances are what they seem to be,
he aided and abetted
in the forcible taking of
a nice Connecticut lady's cell phone
with his brother who just happened to be
released from prison earlier that day
A convoluted tale
ripe with inanities is told,
upshot is our defendant's tale,
his robust defense,
portrays him as the unluckiest man
in the whole world,
a good Samaritan,
*{chasing after the thief,
** ** his bro}*
against whom events have conspired
In Manhattan can be a harsh place,
where the natives
a tough lot,
tougher than the Indians from whom
they stole it all.
Our bridges we sell to out-of-towers,
all it takes is one to say,
what the heck,
reasonable doubt is
a ***** to overcome
so let him go
Jan, 2012
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
Wrong
Wrung
Ring
Ring my doorbell,
Wring my neck,
Rid me of this mortal wretch.
*****
Wrench
Can you fix it?
Get your toolbox
You're ill-equipped
I don't qualify
Quality
Quantity
I am not enough
For this.
Too tough
To kiss.
Rough life I've lived.
Live
Life
Lie
Lay back.
Just take it.
Let it happen.
Swallow
Swallow me up.
Swallow me whole.
Throw me down into a hole.
Wholly
Holy
Even God forgot me.
Oh his drones did try.
Saxophone & sweat
Promised hell when I die.
Choir girls & Inquisition
Tore my words, tried to burn me alive.
Then the good chaplain,
Samaritan?
Charlatan.
Daddy out of the way,
Me on the streets,
Mommy where he wants her
Worship at his feet.
Fret
Bet.
I am not afraid.
My debt is paid.
In blood, in tears.
Lost dreams, lost years.
Country roads, cold beers.
Bare
Bear
Burdens
I am brave.
Strength
Truth
Power
You'll have to cut them from my flesh.
Fresh
Blood
Brooding o'er my funeral,
Don't worry about my death.
I still feel pain,
I still draw breath.
My hearts not cold,
My soul is still old.
I haven't set a thing in stone.
******
Skipping rocks.
Flying planes,
Sail away from the docks.
Shoot me into outer space,
If this is Hell,
Heaven can wait.
I'm dancing with the Devil
& God is always fashionably late.
Create.
Tell
Tales
Tails
I'm not done yet.
Evolving
Incomplete
Completely me.
Pecan pie & sweet tea.
Nature
Treks
Blessed Be.
Naked
Exposed
Second for the money,
First for the show.
This is a test,
No time to be gauche.
Gross
Shocking grace.
There's still sand in my grave.
This cannibal inside
Still has a taste.
Human body beneath my tongue,
It's essence still fills my lungs.
Chest
Heart
Beats against this cage.
I'm too young to feel this age,
So don't you dare save the date.
Once the wolf works with the mirror
It's finally free.
Then I promise,
You'll be seeing me.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
What Easter Really Means To Me
The pain that he had felt that day in the garden. Knowing full well that he had to go to the cross. As they spit in his face with blood gushing out his flesh yet he pressed on. Having stopped briefly for a good samaritan to go further to carry his cross.Jesus Christ died almost 2, 000 years ago. On the cross for all the world to see. What was his prayer what was his final plea ? Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. He said the prayer now the rest is up to you. Just imagine having to wear a crown of thorns upon your head ? Having large nails go through your skin into this bone with blood gushing out. Spear in his side. Those many lashes that he took upon him by the Roman guards. Still he endured the pain knowing full well he had to die to fulfill his great mission. By taking all of mankinds sins upon himself. Happy Easter Everyone & God Bless You (Poet Mario William Vitale).
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 9:50 PM UTC
The nice Samaritan meant well
but tended to wait
to hesitate
just long enough
to be too late to make
a real difference
and instead stood
and watched struck dumb
as the world went to hell
in a handcart
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
Cloaked eyes of white
Open throat cries dry
Echoed padding cadence
Panting tremours
Unable to get away
The streets are unsafely empty
Equality to walk
No illiberal clocking in
I have a cogent life
Will not cede segregation
The struggle, snapped the stem
Stole the stamen from my flower
Shook my pollenous verve
Scattered my soulful scent
Destroyed my confidence to regrow
Sneering the lonesome wolf
Crushes the very flowers that will save it
Without heart of virtue
Praying on those they cannot have
Betrays their own soul without anguish
Proto-stalkers seek help
Decant your desires
Throw off your fur coat
Open up and do not venture into a nightmare
Your Samaritan will always befriend and guide
Lay down your sword
Change the parochial pathway
Magnanimous now live
Fields of flowers beckon
Don't be a brick in the wall
Embrace the feminine essence
Yield flowers their blossom
Steer the legislation to counter the wolven spread
More tulips amongst thorny parliamentarians
Educate the children and those in power
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 7:39 PM UTC
This is Uganda
My motherland
My home that I love so much
Boom, boom, boom,boom
Another prominent leader has been shot dead
Who is it?
Abiriga, the yellow man
Panic here, panic there
Some arrests here and there
And that’s it
He is gone
And the killers too are nowhere to be seen
This is Uganda
Around that time, it’s party here and party there
Many of my brothers and sisters have come to the beginning of the end of their time in school and some totally done
The graduation has brought well-wishers, relatives, friends and family from different places
Happiness is all in the air
But for many, the excitement ends there
Because months and years after that, they are still hoping to find their first job and the hopes seem to be withering down and getting further like the sun setting at dusk
Some have chosen paths totally different from what they studied for
The professional doctor is now a trader
The one that studied engineering is now a farmer
This is Uganda
The neighbor’s dogs are feasting on meat, chicken bones or even the chicken itself and maybe some serious Dog food sold in supermarkets but they slept on empty stomachs the previous night,
The mother is the main breadwinner for the husband abandoned them
There is very thin hope for a meal the next day
Maybe a Good Samaritan will do a miracle
But it certainly is not going to be their most immediate neighbor
While kids from well-to-do families are picked from the gates of their parents’ homes to go to school and brought back later in the evening,
Somewhere in the same age range or slightly older has also woken up to start his/her day
With his/her old & ***** sack on the back, held by the neck, he traverses the whole village throughout the day in search for scrap metal, plastics and some metallic cans that ***** hopes to sell off and find a little something to buy some food and also enjoy some ‘luxuries’ like maybe buying a secondhand T-shirt/Dress
Imagine that!
This is Uganda
We pay for justice
Some pay to deny other justice
And that’s the way it is
A police officer will ask you for a bribe openly with no shame
And that’s the order of the day
Disguised as a small token for ‘Ka-soda’ or ‘Ka-lunch’
This is Uganda
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
Look, in the church
Nuns are dress well,
is a Hijab...
Samaritan, a Jewish
women wear hijab...
Pious Indian women
Use a veils, is a hijab
Let the green protect
The bark of its stem
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 2:10 PM UTC
I gave blood today; I wanted to be a Good Samaritan, help those in need. My blood, after all, is healthy, pure. The thing is though, is that as I watched my life slowly ebb into the pint-sized plastic bag of rescue, I was imagining how lovely it would be for all of it to flow out, into a bag, into the bath, into the universe. To be empty, weightless, cold. As the blood pulsed out of my veins and my arm became weaker, I wished for my eyes to close and for my thoughts to slow down, for the discombobulate realm I call my life to slowly disappear or at least evolve into a breathtaking pasture of wispy freedom. Once my arm was emptied and the possible end was stopped, they told me - drink up, drink up, eat up, eat up - replenish the sugar and tiny hemoglobin cells that I so gracefully supplied. I took hold of the juice, and I took hold of the cookie, but once out of sight, I tossed them to the side. I wanted the feeling of faintness, dizziness, the insecurity of being caught in between two worlds. And as I sit here now with a muted mind and a slight headache, I am slightly pleased.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
In my mind.
I envision being your Superman.
With the power to protect your heart.
Like him.
I wants to do it all.
In my mind.
I visualize being Green Arrow.
With my arrow and bow aimed at your heart.
Because like Cupid noticed during his time..
I selected you to have my love.
In my dreams.
I thought about Wonderman.
Which man doesn't want a Wonder Woman.
One that's amazing from head to toe.
In my heart.
I guess I could be Spiderman.
Just catching you within my web trap.
Just pulling you closer.
In my soul.
I just wants to connect to you.
The way many impressive heroes do.
It could be the police.
The fire department workers.
Or just a Good Samaritan.
Whatever style of hero you seek?
I wants you see them all within me.
Because you so unselfishly give your heart to me.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC
When you see a soul hurt or tortured, in pain
Do you walk past?
Stop?
Or run away
You probably can't help them
You won't understand why
Just being there to listen
Can save a life
No judging, no lecture, no telling you so
Just hold them and listen
Till the fear starts to go
Fear of living or dying
Loving or loss
A body to hold them till the pain has passed
Now look at them closely for all you will see
Is a reflection of all that you'll ever be
The new Samaritan is me
It is also in you
In a world full of pain
Only love can break through
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Fixing to be a dead man,
But you're a dead beat,
Thought you'd learned something by now,
But you ain't hearing me,
Can't hide from the truth,
Swear that you could provide,
Thinking your the truth,
But your a lie,
Just a lying ************ in disguise,
Don't hide your head lil' boy,
To the streets you a toy,
To be played with and controlled,
I will always avoid,
Ignorance is in the room,
The devil won't protect you,
But you ain't hearing me,
Keep laughing,
Trying to be the good Samaritan,
Your own family wouldn't want any
Strikes on them,
And I don't blame them,
Hoping the Lord could save them,
You're no man,
Your no provider,
You're a ******* crook mixed with a
Scared little liar,
Boy want nothing to do
With the stupid activities you do,
And all the people that hang around you,
I just keep a hit list or two,
So please don't try me you sorry excuse,
From you claim to be,
Nobody has respect for you.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
Back-stabber count your silver coins,
all thirty pieces do enjoy.
For thou have torn it from the ****
of he whom thou deem to destroy.
Conveyed before said holy male
who fears to take decision home.
Responsibility he doth bale,
forth-giving this to man of Rome.
Upon to Pilate do I see.
Should I relinquish my belief?
Will mine own peoples see me free
instead of murderer or thief?
In my defence nought do I speak
to only God do I ask praise.
Forgive me not for thou art week
and power to thee is but a phase.
Upon mine head a crown of thorns
secured firmly into place
as harassed by unfriendly scorn.
Holy blood, bathes holy face.
Barbs of metal scourge my all,
unlawful hurt do I withstand.
Burdened with weight I make a fall.
Samaritan doth lend a hand.
Rods of steel fix flesh and bone
to that of mans' wooden *****
In painful agony, though not alone,
with Holy Father I connect.
Hoisted aloft on knoll of high.
Visible means to fear their weight.
Drawn upright, that I may die.
Design to clear of human slate.
Soon this pain will free of me.
My passing so that they may live.
Exalted father thou can see
this son gives all a son can give.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
torrential teardrops join pavement
transforming surface to sheets of glass
patient trees plants flowers quenching their thirst
stray animals bemused hovering with caution
only to find shelter in the rustic shed
the good samaritan leaves scraps
through the makings of savory soup
passing cars washed in rain
will sparkle come sun
lounging indoors focusing through drenched windows
raindrops like opals
pattering on copper roof
cascade as peaceful shower
fairytale sound, sight and smells
invite nestling with a book
cup of tea and scone complete the pallet
with glowing candles
a sanctuary of chopin preludes
surrendering to peaceful sleep.~~lorilynn
copyright*lorilynn 2010
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 9:13 PM UTC
~
She draws water from the well, an old drink for new clientele. She "loves" living next to airports, big shiny airports, named after gruesome visionaries and drunk, womanizing actor sorts. She "loves" wearing a Chinese dress and sitting in a Chinese chair, posing for pictures she can never share.
~
Dec 14, 2023
Dec 14, 2023 at 2:51 PM UTC
No, I'm not here to tell you that you're weak.
I'm not going to turn your weaknesses against you.
Just to say you need a God to make you strong.
God transforms you.
I can't tell you that the
alcohol
drugs
***
and cursing
are bad
and that
maybe
you should consider
a God who can
change it.
I'm not going to lure you in by your own demons
Just to make you believe
But let me ask you this,
Do you honestly believe that God can't use you?
Noah was a drunk
Abrahm was "too old"
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses stuttered
Gideon was afraid
Rahab was a **********
Jeremiah and Timothy were "too young"
David had an affair and murdered
Isaiah preached the gospel naked
Elijah was suicidal
Naomi was a widow
Job lost everything
Peter denied Christ
All of Jesus' disciples fell asleep during prayer
Martha worried
The samaritan woman divorced
Paul was "too religious"
Timothy had an ulcer
And Lazarus?
Oh, he was dead!
But Christ used each and every one of the characters of the Bible to bring Glory to His name!
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
*
A dove carries a leaf of an olive, free;
A love carries a lyric of a life giving tree;
The leaf is a symbol of new beginnings;
The lyric is a treat for all mourning’s;
In times of heavy storms; strong winds,
Relax under the shades of all minds!
Welcome peace and comfort to dear one’s;
Become a good Samaritan to near one’s.
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
[email protected]
www.williamsji.com
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
"I love you" while you see them hungry should mean you feed them
"I love you" while you see them thirsty should mean you give them to drink
"I love you" when you see them naked should mean you clothe them
"I love you" in the midst of all this need does not say,
"I love your hunger, I love your thirst, I love your nakedness."
It says, "I love you, and because of that,
"I hate your hunger, I hate your thirst, I hate your nakedness."
Love does not mean leaving as be, love does not mean acceptance.
Love means feeding and giving water and clothing, love means fixing.
Love means love of you and thusly a non-acceptance of their faults,
a non-acceptance of their problems and their needs,
Love means that you must give, to sit down like the Good Samaritan
and feed the destitute,
give water to the man lying down,
and offer him your coat.
Love does not mean that you wander by the homeless man and think
to yourself how wonderful that person must be and how much you appreciate
their existence and how we cannot judge others
and how each soul is worth something.
In fact, each of these truths are true but if you believe them, you have
to take them to action. If you think someone is wonderful, I do not believe you
until you help them and show them your love.
If you do not try to help and fix someone,
I do not believe you appreciate their existence.
If you do not try and help the homeless man,
I do not believe you think he is not at fault for his homelessness.
If you do not take the lost and poor and needy under your arms,
I do not believe that you believe every soul is worth something.
Love means action. Love is not words.
If love is only words, it means nothing. It is not love.
However, we know what love is- we were given a definition.
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."
Love does not leave hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick, and lonely.
Love is not acceptance. Love fixes. Love does.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
There is
a perpetual hole in my life
where you used to be
And it doesn’t matter if
it’s only been an hour
Or seventeen days
Or seven months
Or three years.
It’s still there.
It has the cruelest consequences.
Even when you’re absent
You’re here with me.
and when I want you to be gone,
You are
but I feel your goneness,
and your absence
becomes a presence.
and not the one I want.
What’s worst is
you’re not dead
Or in a desolate war zone
Or being a good Samaritan
in a third world country;
You live right down the street.
You chose to be a hole
rather than to be
with me.
I might as well save electricity
And just unplug the “no”
of my vacancy sign.
Because there will always be one.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:10 AM UTC
Most of my relatives are distant,
But some have the ability
To bring me into an elevenses of life,
And one particular person
Is my cousin, Teresa.
I call her Terry for short.
That doesn't change how spectacular she is
To me, though!
Terry and her family traditionally visit my family
To ring in the New Year.
This New Year, just on a ten-minute car ride to a local town,
Terry talked to me about her plans for her birthday,
And her favorite books to read as of lately:
Weedly-Deedly (about a nice dragon)
And PuddleBooks, which include children characters
Such as Yolanda Yells-A-Lot.
A year or two backward,
I wouldn't have taken the topic so seriously
As I am one to easily laugh about anything
Depending on what thoughts are in my mind usually.
However, as long as I don't know fully the plot, the scenes
Of what happens in such fiction as the PuddleBooks series,
I am clueless to the lessons and learnings
I could easily miss.
There should be a warning everywhere
Not to look down on what we think we outgrow
As long as lessons are everywhere
For all ages.
There was also a time,
Many moons ago,
When my aunt had the cousins arranged
Seated on a couch
For a picture or two.
I became irritated and uncomfortable
Being claustrophobically shoulder-squished.
Upset, I curled on the floor and cried
In front of everyone in the room.
The first gesture that Terry offered me
Was a hand to pull me up from the carpet,
Of which I accepted,
Like a ***** toward a penetratingly loving Samaritan.
Before my relatives departed today,
My aunt told me how stellar Terry's memory is
And can be.
My aunt backed her claim strongly
By telling me how Terry remembered a quiet morning
Where she and I were the only ones awake
And I made waffles for her.
You don't have to go to a concert
To make special memories.
You're not required to know all
Or be all
To be recognized.
And my cousin Terry, alive and well,
An interactor for sure,
Doesn't need the sky
To be a soul of sunshine.
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 12:56 PM UTC